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    <title>1. CHAPTER II</title>
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    <div class="chapter" id="id1012223"><h2>1. CHAPTER II</h2>


<p id="id1012229"><span id="id108981"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->

Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family,
which for the last two or three generations had been rising into
gentility and property.  He had received a good education, but,
on succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become
indisposed for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers
were engaged, and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social
temper by entering into the militia of his county, then embodied. 
</p>

<p id="id1012232"><span id="id108996"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances
of his military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill,
of a great Yorkshire family, and Miss Churchill fell in love
with him, nobody was surprized, except her brother and his wife,
who had never seen him, and who were full of pride and importance,
which the connexion would offend. 
</p>

<p id="id1012220"><span id="id109008"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command
of her fortune—though her fortune bore no proportion to the
family-estate—was not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it
took place, to the infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill,
who threw her off with due decorum.  It was an unsuitable connexion,
and did not produce much happiness.  Mrs. Weston ought to have found
more in it, for she had a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper
made him think every thing due to her in return for the great goodness
of being in love with him; but though she had one sort of spirit,
she had not the best.  She had resolution enough to pursue
her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough to refrain
from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s unreasonable anger,
nor from missing the luxuries of her former home.  They lived beyond
their income, but still it was nothing in comparison of Enscombe:
she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at once
to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe. 
</p>

<p id="id1012238"><span id="id109016"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills,
as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst
of the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years’ marriage,
he was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain. 
From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. 
The boy had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering
illness of his mother’s, been the means of a sort of reconciliation;
and Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, having no children of their own,
nor any other young creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to
take the whole charge of the little Frank soon after her decease. 
Some scruples and some reluctance the widower-father may be supposed
to have felt; but as they were overcome by other considerations,
the child was given up to the care and the wealth of the Churchills,
and he had only his own comfort to seek, and his own situation to
improve as he could. 
</p>

<p id="id1012242"><span id="id109025"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
A complete change of life became desirable.  He quitted the militia
and engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a
good way in London, which afforded him a favourable opening. 
It was a concern which brought just employment enough.  He had still
a small house in Highbury, where most of his leisure days were spent;
and between useful occupation and the pleasures of society,
the next eighteen or twenty years of his life passed cheerfully away. 
He had, by that time, realised an easy competence—enough to secure
the purchase of a little estate adjoining Highbury, which he had
always longed for—enough to marry a woman as portionless even
as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of his own
friendly and social disposition. 
</p>

<p id="id1012245"><span id="id109022"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence
his schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth
on youth, it had not shaken his determination of never settling
till he could purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long
looked forward to; but he had gone steadily on, with these objects
in view, till they were accomplished.  He had made his fortune,
bought his house, and obtained his wife; and was beginning a new
period of existence, with every probability of greater happiness
than in any yet passed through.  He had never been an unhappy man;
his own temper had secured him from that, even in his first marriage;
but his second must shew him how delightful a well-judging and truly
amiable woman could be, and must give him the pleasantest proof
of its being a great deal better to choose than to be chosen,
to excite gratitude than to feel it. 
</p>

<p id="id1012236"><span id="id109033"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was
his own; for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought
up as his uncle’s heir, it had become so avowed an adoption
as to have him assume the name of Churchill on coming of age. 
It was most unlikely, therefore, that he should ever want his
father’s assistance.  His father had no apprehension of it. 
The aunt was a capricious woman, and governed her husband entirely;
but it was not in Mr. Weston’s nature to imagine that any caprice
could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he believed,
so deservedly dear.  He saw his son every year in London,
and was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine
young man had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. 
He was looked on as sufficiently belonging to the place to make his
merits and prospects a kind of common concern. 
</p>

<p id="id1012250"><span id="id109042"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively
curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little
returned that he had never been there in his life.  His coming
to visit his father had been often talked of but never achieved. 
</p>

<p id="id1012255"><span id="id109051"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Now, upon his father’s marriage, it was very generally proposed,
as a most proper attention, that the visit should take place. 
There was not a dissentient voice on the subject, either when
Mrs. Perry drank tea with Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and
Miss Bates returned the visit.  Now was the time for Mr. Frank
Churchill to come among them; and the hope strengthened when it was
understood that he had written to his new mother on the occasion. 
For a few days, every morning visit in Highbury included some mention
of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received.  “I suppose you
have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill has written
to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed. 
Mr. Woodhouse told me of it.  Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and he
says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life.”
</p>

<p id="id1012264"><span id="id109058"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
It was, indeed, a highly prized letter.  Mrs. Weston had, of course,
formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing
attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense,
and a most welcome addition to every source and every expression
of congratulation which her marriage had already secured.  She felt
herself a most fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough
to know how fortunate she might well be thought, where the only
regret was for a partial separation from friends whose friendship
for her had never cooled, and who could ill bear to part with her. 
</p>

<p id="id1012267"><span id="id109064"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think,
without pain, of Emma’s losing a single pleasure, or suffering
an hour’s ennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear
Emma was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation
than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy,
and spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily
through its little difficulties and privations.  And then there was
such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield,
so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston’s
disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching
season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the
week together. 
</p>

<p id="id1012270"><span id="id109072"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude
to Mrs. Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her
satisfaction—-her more than satisfaction—her cheerful enjoyment,
was so just and so apparent, that Emma, well as she knew her father,
was sometimes taken by surprize at his being still able to pity
‘poor Miss Taylor,’ when they left her at Randalls in the centre
of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away in the evening
attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own. 
But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse’s giving a gentle sigh,
and saying, “Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay.”
</p>

<p id="id1012272"><span id="id109079"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
There was no recovering Miss Taylor—nor much likelihood of
ceasing to pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation
to Mr. Woodhouse.  The compliments of his neighbours were over;
he was no longer teased by being wished joy of so sorrowful an event;
and the wedding-cake, which had been a great distress to him,
was all eat up.  His own stomach could bear nothing rich, and he
could never believe other people to be different from himself. 
What was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit for any body;
and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them from having
any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as earnestly
tried to prevent any body’s eating it.  He had been at the pains
of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject.  Mr. Perry
was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were one
of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse’s life; and upon being applied to,
he could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the
bias of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree
with many—perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately. 
With such an opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped
to influence every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the
cake was eaten; and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till
it was all gone. 
</p>

<p id="id1012275"><span id="id109084"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys
being seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston’s wedding-cake in their
hands: but Mr. Woodhouse would never believe it. 
</p>



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